I found my sleep cycles to be more and more interrupted as my stay here stretches on. I can't use "my time here" because what is time but a moment of sensation, a moment of experience. As I am an eternal exhibit here, time has no meaning, and sensation and experience are complicated. My sensations, my experiences are at the whim of my Device and the Distressland customers who admire me and enjoy tickling, teasing, and torturing me, so are they really mine?

My sleep cycles seem further apart too. I can endure more before exhaustion sets in, even with my body becoming more honed, more sensitive and vulnerable to the tickles and teases. I know for a fact I'd become more sensitive. Even more than being able to feel it, and I certainly did, I was told so as it happened when my sleep cycle was broken up for a new round of intense tickles that were unlike anything I'd experienced.

I'd go through the usual undressing, my nude form on display briefly for all to see. I no longer minded since it could happen in the course of working my device, and I'd grown accustomed to it. I still preferred my white two piece and bunny ears, but no longer felt exposed or embarrassed.

I tried to forego the usual ring gag as I was cleaned, but couldn't always. My hair would get all lathered up, body all sudsed up, and those scrubber brushes would clean me very, very thoroughly, ensuring all of the sweat, tears, and more that I produced during my countless hours of sanity sapping tickle torture would be scrubbed away, often still tickling me crazy and causing me to laugh my head off to where I couldn't get my mouth cleaned like I needed. I'd come out looking clean and fresh, feeling better, my body on perfect display for new customers at the park.

One I was clean, I'd be dressed in my black bikini and left to rest. I'd get the most wonderful massages again all over, feeling my muscles relax as those headphones did something to my brain to release endorphins and calm me down. I'd feel a sense of blissful nirvana, at peace, the stress being washed away just as the bath moments before started to wash away everything on my body.

I'd close my eyes and on those rare occasions I could get through without my ring gag, open my mouth and await my mask and my supper, the formula. It was still the only sustenance I ever had and it was still my most favorite thing to eat or drink ever, still wonderful and delicious. I think it would have happened eventually, but I would make jokes to my Device, asking if they were drugging me to keep me placid, or putting something in there to make me more ticklish, even suggesting I wouldn't mind if that happened. I found out the next sleep cycle that when I was allowed to speak, I would be recorded, monitored and someone would listen.

During that cycle I was enjoying the bliss of my massage, my headphones on, vibrating away my worries and stress, for even as much as I loved tickling, those moments of calm offered a sweet contrast that made my rest and torture all the greater and more fun. The formula tasted the same, but as I drank it down and enjoyed myself, I heard a voice chime in.

"Hello, Abby. You've been such a good girl and such a wonderful attraction for the Distressland we've decided to alter your formula. It's a new prototype that will make you more ticklish with each gulp, making your nerves more sensitive and rewiring your brain. You'll feel more from each tickle, more pleasure from each tease, and the throes of climactic ecstasy will be even more intense."

The answer surprised me as the mask pulled away, causing me to pout, wanting more. The massage ended abruptly too and my headphones were taken away, replaced by the usual bunny ears. I looked out, staring. I felt air blow all over me and shivered, my skin feeling much more ticklish after all! I gulped, a bit nervous now. Would this be more than I could handle?

The answer was yes, and I loved it!

Patrons came once more. They could tickle me for free, but some would pop in coins to get extra options. It tickled a LOT! ALL OVER! My arms were sensitive before, but worse now, to where tickles would have them trembling uncontrollably. My underarms caused me to scream with laughter, my ribs, back, neck, and face forcing even greater giggles from me. My tummy and sides, oh my, I couldn't believe how much more ticklish they'd become! I was afraid I'd be breathless from laughter right away, but I kept laughing and laughing.

The hands and tickles drooped lower, my thighs and knees getting it worse, though the rest of my legs were more ticklish still. It was pure torture, but nothing compared to my hidden, trapped feet. Being tickled there was unbearable! My soles and toes felt too ticklish for me to handle and I was screaming my head off. It was one of the biggest rushes, most exciting, wonderful and agonizing things I felt... I was ungagged too so my laughter and cries carried far, attracting more of a crowd, causing more and more people to want to see me tickled.

When it was seemingly over, I felt as I had just before my sleep cycle, worn out, a sweaty mess, but with a smile on my face, eyes closed, basking in the afterglow of my tickles in my black bikini and bunny ears. I knew I was crazy from what I endured, but I didn't care. I would look forward to this tomorrow.

There was only last test, one last tickle that caught me off guard though. My black bikini could untie easily, and customer, I think that person actually worked for Distressland itself, punched in buttons, tickling me in a new area that had me wailing at the top of my lungs, panting and begging for more at once. That tickling made me learn my throws of climactic ecstasy were indeed far, far more intense too, almost causing me to actually pass out!

I didn't and was quickly bathed again and given a new black bikini. The massaging and headphones seemed even more intense this time, but whether that was because I was still more sensitive or it was a reward for being such a good test subject, I don't know. As I drifted off to sleep finally, I heard the speaker again.

"Good girl, Abby. That was an excellent test. You'll be treated so you're more ticklish over time. Slowly, since we don't want to break you. We have all the time in the world to make you infinitely more ticklish. Keep entertaining our guests, okay?" There was a chuckle at that from the speaker in my Device. After all, what choice did I have, trapped forever in this device and others like it? All the same, I smiled behind my mask.

I knew I was going to be tickled crazy again and again over an eternity of tickles, pleasing guests and crowds with my helpless, constant laughter. I knew I was looking forward to it too.